


Pass Them On The Outside

by Serised



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, NASCAR!au, racing!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:51:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1604114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serised/pseuds/Serised
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis are race car drivers that have jumped the pond from Formula One to NASCAR. Set in July 2014. (Please give this story a shot!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pass Them On The Outside

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to apologize for this in advance. I watch(ed) a lot of NASCAR, and recently watched a nasty wreck and this story came to life and bugged me until I wrote it. I borrowed a few real drivers just for my entertainment. I am also not claiming to be an expert in the sport, but I do have a good amount of knowledge about it.
> 
> Title taken from a line from Days of Thunder, one of my favorite movies.

It’s the middle of summer, and Florida’s humidity isn’t a friend of Louis. It’s hot as balls in his car, and his jumpsuit feels like he’s sitting in liquid with the amount he’s sweated already, and the race isn’t halfway through.

“How many laps we got left?”

Liam sighs into his headset. “Mate, it’s only a 160 lap race, you need to stop asking.”

“Well I would if everyone would keep their bloody cars on the track and stop wrecking them.”

Another sigh. “We’ve gone 40.”

Louis lets out a string of curse words, probably to be picked up by whoever is broadcasting the race and talked about by whoever is commentating. Like he cares. 

He’s one of two British racers trying out the weird American sport of NASCAR. The idiots figured to not just bring one person, let’s bring two because American’s like things in groups of two apparently. Louis glances in his mirrors, but doesn’t see his partner around him.

“Mate, where is Harry at?”

There is chatter between Liam and his spotter, before Liam finally answers. “He’s ahead of you, nearly cracked the top ten. And before you ask, you’re in 18th. And before you say anything, this is our strategy. Running in the back to start is better at this track.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Whatever, you’re the boss.”

Liam has the audacity to sound smug when he answers. “Exactly. We’re taking four tires this stop, stay sharp.”

Louis manages to gain two positions out of the pit stop, much to Liam’s chagrin.

\------

Harry is silent during the long stretch of green flag racing, which consisted of 40 laps because the track had been different from practice at the start of the race and drivers were losing control of their cars left and right. He can hear Niall’s chatter in his ear, coupled with Zayn telling him to calm down. It would probably be annoying to most drivers, but he finds the bickering to be somewhat calming. It settles him down, at least, and going nearly 200 miles an hour through the straight-aways warrants a bit of calmness.

“H, mate, I’m gonna need you to calm it down. You’re gonna wear out your tires before long.”

“You say that, but there will be a caution soon…”

“Niall, shut the fuck up, I’m the crew chief, not you.”

Harry laughs, feeling comfortable in his car for the first time all season. The cars are a lot different than the formula one car he’s so used to. He kept questioning himself all of last month as to why he made the jump across the ocean to play lab rat to this large experiment, but when he finished in the top ten in three consecutive races leading up to one of the biggest races of the year, well, he thought lady luck might be on his side. 

“Harry, you listening mate?”

“Sorry, no, I wasn’t. What again?”

“Gordon’s team is suggesting hooking up in the draft later on down the race. He’s behind you in sixth right now.”

Harry frowns, glancing behind him in the mirror. “Where is Louis?”

Niall chips in, ever the helpful spotter. “He’s stuck in 12th, mate. Lapped traffic is a bitch.”

He ponders the thought. It’s not often that big named drivers offer to help out little no-names, especially when they aren’t from America. “Can we trust him?”

“Eh, it’s up to you. He probably thinks you can’t handle drafting and will fall off the pace so he can get around you. It gets unpredictable late in the race.”

“Yes, I’m aware; you made me watch tape of the last five races, thank you.”

Zayn clucks his tongue. “Just wanted you to be prepared, no harm in that.”

Harry opens his mouth to respond, but Niall speaks again, this time in a more serious tone. “Caution’s out, shit. Slow down.”

He immediately lets off the gas, falling behind the third place car, which he sees is a teammate of the person wanting to help him in the draft. Lovely.

“Mate, they’re diverting you to pit road, looks like the accident is in the straightaway.” 

He can see that ahead of him. It looks to him that there are four cars involved, but he can’t see any of the numbers. “Who was involved?”

It’s silent for a moment, in what he thinks is his team trying to decide their pit strategy. He makes another lap around the track before he hears anything. “It’s Louis.”

He feels his heart stop momentarily. “How bad?”

“Bad, mate. He didn’t respond for a few minutes, think he got knocked out or something. Just stay calm, alright, we don’t want the media in on this.”

It was no secret that he and Louis were close. True, their media appeal had not reached the level that Danica and Ricky did, but two males in a Southern male heavily dominated market in America, there was no room for a gay man, let alone two, let alone those two together in a relationship. They were careful to keep their relationship behind closed doors. They shared a trailer because they claimed it was easier to be near each other in the chaos of America. They shared a house together because they were both living in America for the first time in their lives and didn’t want to be separated. It was by some small miracle that no media outlet had picked up on it, only suggesting that they were the best of friends. Which they were: best friends who fucked each other and wore promise rings under their jumpsuits when they raced.

Close enough, right?

“Harry? Liam just said they think he might have broken his wrist, they aren’t sure. He did get knocked out though, for a few seconds. His car clipped the grass and he shot up the incline into the safer barrier. He’s alright, Li’s gonna go check on him in medical and come sit up here, okay?”

He felt like he could breathe again. It was never easy when either of them got into an accident. NASCAR was ten times safer than formula one was, or at least he thought it to be. Driving the car wasn’t the same, but both he and Louis felt safer strapping in now than they did racing back home. He was silent throughout the rest of the cleanup and through pit stops, heart racing as he inched another spot coming out of pit road. 

“H, I need you to talk to me, you good?”Zayn sounded concerned.

He cleared his throat, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “I’m good. Just help me win this thing.”

He heard both Niall and Zayn chuckle. “Yeah, he’s good. Let’s win ourselves a race.”

\------

Liam joined Zayn in his box with twenty laps to go, with Harry in third place and distance between himself and fourth, but more between himself and second. His presence helped Harry focus, especially when he was updated about Louis.

“He’s good, he’s pissed off at Harvick right now for wrecking him and more pissed they are keeping him for a bit to make sure he doesn’t faint, but he’s good. Didn’t break his wrist, just sprained it a little. They don’t think he’ll miss next week, thankfully.”

Harry let out a sigh of relief. “Did he-?”

“He said under no circumstances are you to finish in anything less than fifth.”

There was a chuckle over the headset, even Niall chiming in. “Well, good luck, caution is out again, fuck that’s like a record now, innit?”

He heard Zayn cuss, Liam immediately scolding him. Their strategy was out the window now. Harry had gotten lucky in the last stop and taken four tires, with a lot of the other drivers only taking two. He’d gotten a lucky drafting partner too in Johnson, of all people, and passed a few more cars to give him third. If the race went green the rest of the way, he was fine on fuel and tires and could have easily won. Apparently luck wasn’t fully on his side; lady luck wanted him to work for it.

“We’re gonna pit, H.”

“You sure?”

“We have to; we can’t beat a car with two fresher tires on, plus added fuel. Go for two, get some fuel; we’re golden to compete for the win.”

“Roger that, chief.” Harry steered into pit road, glancing up at Zayn and Liam as his team changed right sides only, speeding away as soon as his car was down. 

“Still in third, mate. Ten to go. Busch is prone to take the inside, so you’ll be behind him. Don’t let anyone bully you out there, just draft him and when you get away from the pack, use that draft to get around him. He’s weaker coming out of the turns, so you can over take him coming out of turn four and you’ll be good. Let’s hope we stay green.”

Niall cleared his throat after Zayn was done. “Louis texted me. Said, and I quote, ‘You tell that curly headed bastard I’ll give him the best blow job of his life tonight if he wins this fucking race.’”

Harry can’t help but burst out laughing, barely hearing Liam edge out “God dammit, as if we don’t hear enough about their sex lives!”

He listened for Niall’s cue at the one to go, pushing the gas to help propel him past second place, staying directly behind first. He went into auto pilot; he could hear Niall and Zayn tell him lap times and laps to go, but only focused on the car in front of him. He figured Busch didn’t think he’d be complacent with second, and Harry watched him become more defensive as the laps dwindled down. It made him smirk, jerking the car to the side in the straight-aways just to watch the car in front immediately zoom in front of him to stop him.

“H, stop it, for god’s sake you’re gonna wreck the pair of you and bloody Johnson will win.”

“Sorry. He’s easy to mess with.”

“Well stop, white flag is out, get ready.”

He stayed directly behind him through the first three turns. His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. At Niall’s cue in the last turn, he floored it, jerking his car to the right coming out of the turn, passing Busch on the outside. Niall and Zayn’s yells sounded like whispers, and time felt like it slowed down as both he and the car beside him crossed the finish line. Niall was yelling in his ear that he’d won, nearly screaming but Harry knew he wouldn’t believe it until Zayn confirmed it.

“Photo fucking finish, you can’t just win a race the normal way, can you Styles?”

There was silence over the radio for a few moments. He let his safety net down, giving a thumbs up to Busch, who was probably as much in the dark as he was about who actually won the race. The obvious losers of the race zoomed past them, hands out the window to congratulate whoever won the race.

“This is taking forever, I thought American technology was more advance and-“

“You won. Holy shit, Harry, you won.”

At that moment, he really hoped his mum was watching. “I fucking won a race in an American sport. Take that you Yankees!”

Laughter filled the radio, mindless chatter keeping him company as he got the checkered flag from the start finish line, zooming around the track in his victory lap before swinging down pit road and into victory lane. He took his time removing his gloves and helmet, fumbling to undo the steering wheel before finally climbing out, getting a nice shower of water and beer and whatever else was provided. He couldn’t help but laugh, getting dragged into a hug by Zayn, who said nothing but held him close as a reporter waited to do his first post race interview.

He smiled brightly at her, trying to keep his mess of hair out of his face as he talked. He clutched his mandatory coke in his hand, feeling it shake as the adrenaline coursed through his veins. If this was what winning felt like, he wanted to win every race.

“I just have one more question for you. Your teammate, Louis Tomlinson was caught up in the wreck on lap 86. Did you see anything that happened?”

Harry shook his head. “No, it happened behind me but I saw the wreckage afterwards. Bit nasty, wasn’t it? But I was told him and everyone else involved were okay, which is a great thing to hear.”

He could see movement out of the corner of his eye, a figure running towards him with what looked like medical staff chasing after him. He grinned, stepping forward to allow the figure to wrap his arms around him tightly. He hid his face in Louis’ shoulder, feeling Louis do this same so they had some resemblance of privacy even though there were cameras pointed at them from all angles. He couldn’t help but start laughing, feeling Louis do the same against him.

“You alright? Liam said-“

“Liam exaggerates. I’m fine. Head feels a bit weird but I’m fine.”

He sighed in relief, holding Louis tighter against him. “You know there’ll be talk about this for the next few weeks.”

Louis pulled back, a look of determination on his face. Harry had learned from his years of being with Louis that when he had that look on his face, it meant he was about to do something that could land him in trouble, but he was past the point of caring.

Louis kissed him.

\------

“So, Harry, congratulations on your first win in Daytona. Tell us about the race.”

“Uhh, well, never experienced that many cautions early on in a race before. Track was a bit off in the beginning, but being in the middle kind of helped. I just stayed true to my game plan, moved up when I was told and paced my car to save fuel and tires. Got kind of lucky near the end.”

“You fought off Kyle Busch at the end of the race.”

“Yeah! I mean, he’s a legend of a driver and I won’t lie, I was nearly pissing myself near the end. I took a chance coming out of turn four and it paid off. Closest finish in Daytona history, right?”

“That’s right, and you gave one of the more memorable victory lane speeches as well.”

“Well, I might have had some help with that…”

“How are things between you and Louis?”

“To be honest, it was a bit scary checking Twitter after that. But everyone in the community, the drivers and families and crews have been nothing but supportive, so we’re both as happy as can be.”

“Word has it he’s sitting out this race, correct?”

“Yeah, the doctor didn’t want him to hurt his wrist more before it healed, so he’s taking the weekend off.”

“I imagine he’ll be atop your box?”

“Of course! Not that I could stop him, he’d find a way up there regardless.”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s all we have time for. Thanks again, Harry!”

“Thank you for having me!”

\------

That next Sunday, when Harry wins his second consecutive race, Louis is photographed crying atop his box, promise ring securely on his hand, which is no longer a promise ring, but an engagement ring.

Harry never thought he’d make it in America, but with Louis by his side and their teams behind him, they just might make it after all.


End file.
